Sebtana Week Prompts
by LoveAlwaysKaity
Summary: Prompt #4 - Killer and Victim; Santana is an assassin and Sebastian is her target.
1. Chapter 1

LOG IN, TRY AND HACK ME  
SEBTANA WEEK - DAY ONE - BANDIT/COP

* * *

_**Present time. October 14**__**th**__**, 2013. 2:30pm. **_

Her heels slammed against the concrete as she jumped down off the fire escape with her backpack over her shoulder. A small chuckle crackled in between her breaths as she ran. Her nails lightly dug into the bleach blonde wig she had been wearing, as she took it off and stuck it into her backpack. Her fingers switched out the artificial hair for a stick of devil red lipstick, because who could she be if she didn't leave behind a little note? She could hear the commands from the crowd behind her, ordering people to chase her. They should know better than to do so, however, no matter if the law pretty much stated that they had to catch the bad guy. This was probably about the five hundredth time she had done this, running from the authorities. Sure she was just a girl and her computer with the notorious hobby of hacking on the very top of her resume but triggering high speed chases was listed right underneath. Her shoulder-length, raven hair was half in her face and half behind her as she curved down a back road that would take her to an intersection where she could blend in with the crowd. A smirk resided on her parted lips as she thought of what her message should say this time and to whom. It was her signature so to speak, since she knew every person working her case day in and day out. None of them were really that interesting.

Save for Sebastian Smythe.

The man himself, had been quite into computers and hacking, back in the day. In fact that was his first job with the agency. Santana knew that because, well…a magician never really reveal their secrets do they? Since no one really had as much expertise as him, he got a new position as detective and ever since then it's been a game of cat and mouse. However Sebastian wasn't a smart enough cat to catch the mouse. He may have been good with a computer but he definitely was not as good as her.

Biting her lip, she didn't dare to look back and see if anyone was behind her. The best thing that she could do and well what was seemingly an innate ability for her was to never look back. To indirectly quote Disney's _Meet the Robinsons_ she just kept moving forward. As she neared the edge of the heavily populated intersection that had been her point of escape for lord knows how long, she stopped. Ducking behind and old abandon building that used to be a butcher shop she swung her black backpack out in front of her. In the smaller pocket she grabbed a piece of blank white paper. Finally she took the lipstick she had and wrote a little message to the one person who she hadn't written to yet.

It was such a shame that she couldn't leave it in person.

Walking up to the street, she left it on top of a newspaper stand that was just out of any camera's point of view. Finally slowing her pace, she zipped up her backpack and pushed her glasses just a bit higher on the bridge of her nose. She had won again and though it wasn't surprising, it didn't mean she loved it any less.

* * *

_**A half our earlier. October 14**__**th**__**, 2013. 2:00pm.**_

There was a precision in her steps as she took her time setting up her laptop in the hotel room that had been rented out for her thanks to her client. She looked through the lenses of her glasses, her eyes moving just as rapidly as she typed. If you asked her what made her learn how to hack, she'd tell you boredom because that was the truth. Or well half of it. Santana Lopez, or Snix—the name she used when signing her hack—depending how you know her, was a foster child. While half her foster brothers and sisters were hauled up in their rooms studying or out on the street stirring up something, she was obsessed with finding out who her birth parents really were.

Every foster mother she had ever had turned out to be dead end after dead end. None of them were told any details, seeing as they didn't have her file. So she learned how to pick locks so to speak, but digital ones of course because she would never be caught at or even near the scene of the crime.

Not until she was older at least.

So here she was, under the orders of someone who had just happened to hear of her through the grapevine and found out how to contact her, trying to get information. It wasn't anything that could cause havoc on the country—though she knew that if she was ever presented the opportunity she probably could be successful—but it would definitely cause the fallout of a huge company: Hudson Headquarters.

The goal was to recover emails that held files that incriminated the business for using bribes as their negotiation tactic and then forward them to the address she had been given when she first took on the job. It was an easy and out job, something that she could have done at "home" but instead she wanted to have a little fun.

Oh the perks of being some sort of ghost to all databases out on the internet.

Biting into an apple she had brought for a snack, she only winded up waiting for about five minutes until she had gotten past the security system. After that she just had to make it past a couple more password protected firewalls and then voilà, she was in the head of the company's email. It didn't take long to recover the emails and the files attached to them. But for the final touch she made what could be identified as a "slip up" and signaled her position to the FBI.

The moment she sent the signal in the feds line of sight, she started packing up. Unplugging the memory stick she had that saved the encrypted files, she slid it into her combat boots just in case she needed to ditch her backpack. Not to mention it could fall out of her jean's pocket when she was running. They may have been skin tight but that didn't mean anything. She left her juicy red apple on the corner of the table, not really caring that they'd have her DNA.

Closing the silver lid to her laptop, she stuck it in her backpack. Two strides later and she was crawling out the window just as the FBI started to rap on her door.

They were fast but she was faster.

* * *

_**Present time. October 14**__**th**__**, 2013. 2:40pm.**_

He paced around the untouched hotel room and tried his best not to take the apple that had been left on the top corner of the table across the room. He knew as well as anyone else that whatever trace of this criminal that had been left on that apple was useless. It would bring up no matches in any database. It had been _months _since he first got assigned to this case and he didn't even know what the suspect looked like. All he knew, just like all of the people working alongside him, was that she went by Snix. Other than that she was a ghost. His right hand reached up and rubbed at the scruff on his jaw. There had to be some sort of clue, some sort of slip up. They knew that it was Hudson Headquarters, a company his own father was very invested in, that had been infiltrated. What however, he didn't know and it was his job to find out; which was not something he looked forward to at all. He hadn't been able to unlock anything from the encryption that Snix had created. It was like everything that he had learned about computers was absolutely pointless. He was top of his class for fucking nothing. Frustration coursed through him as always but this time it seemed to boil his veins. Because this…this very well was a set up.

Sebastian Smythe had fallen into Snix's mousetrap once again.

"Tell me you got something, Chang?" Sebastian called out to his partner who had been on the phone with the agents that were pursuing her.

"She got away." He told her, the lines on his forehead folding into a fine crisp.

"Dammit!" The brunette yelled slamming his fists on the table he had been standing next to. The apple rolled off the table and landed on the ground with a thump.

"Maybe she left behind something. A piece of paper, flash drive, anything? Did you check the security tapes?" Mike asked finally pocketing his cell phone.

Sebastian just shook his head as he moved the jacket to his suit out of the way, so his hands rested on his hips. "This time she's a bleached blonde. None of her skin shows and her face never made it on camera. She's good."

"Too good." A rookie came up and slapped his hands on the commanding agent's shoulders laughing. "Especially since not even you, _the_ Sebastian Smythe can't crack her code. I gotta say, if it weren't for the fact that she's a criminal, a big fat enemy of the law, I'd say you met your match!"

He could only clench his jaw as he harshly shrugged off the hands on his shoulders. A million vile comments were on the tip of his tongue but the last thing he needed to do right now was have a conniption. What he needed to do was solve this case. The best day of his life would be when he finally got to put this son of a bitch behind bars. For a moment he imagined what it would be like to slap handcuffs on the wrists that were hidden by a beaten down leather jacket. He could almost taste the satisfaction until he realized it was only but a polluted image in his mind. Pinching the bridge of his nose he closed his eyes until he felt a small pat on his shoulder.

"Keegan I will have you put on a desk job if you make one more fucking comment." Sebastian seethed, his jaw clenching tightly. He turned around however, to meet the big brown eyes of Rachel Berry.

"Oh, Rachel." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"We both know you don't mean that Sebastian." She told him flat out with a small smile, handing him over a plastic evidence bag. "You're never one for formalities at all. You stand by everything you say, no matter how unprofessional it may sound. However this is your crime scene so at least no one can tell you otherwise. Anyways, I just came here to give you this. It seems it's finally your turn."

When her ponytail flicked over her shoulder as she left his presence, Sebastian looked down. He knew what this was; it was something she always left. It was a note, an actual written signature if you will. Moving the plastic so it was completely clear over the note he read the thick swirls in her favorite shade of lipstick.

_Catch me if you can. Xx, Snix._

* * *

**A/N**: If anyone else wants to see the other prompts go to weekofsebtana on tumblr. I hope you guys liked this and please tell me what you think! Reviews are love.


	2. Chapter 2

CHASE ME, CATCH ME, KISS ME, KILL ME  
SEBTANA WEEK - DAY FOUR - KILLER/VICTIM

* * *

He remembered everything about the day they met. From the Dinosaur t-shirt-that he had to take from the lost and found, because someone just couldn't watch where the fuck they were going, and spilled coffee on his freshly pressed button up-to the small strand hair that wandered out of his perfectly styled hair. It had been sunny but the perfect temperature when she had walked out of the forensics class that was just across from the way from his law studies. She had been wearing a light aquamarine summer dress that hugged her every curve and her hair had been placed down in perfect tendrils.

Honestly he hadn't seen anything more beautiful.

Considering he had a reputation and well a pretty face he had approached her. He would like to say that one charming remark about her appearance later he had pocketed her number, but that definitely had not been the case. She had turned out to not be like other girls and it was like he had entered a gun fight with a fucking stick of all things.

It was alright though because he loved a good chase. It only made victory sweeter.

* * *

He writhed on the table and as he gagged on the damp but thick piece of rolled up cloth on his mouth that was tied around his head. His heart was beating furiously as he tried his best not to squint at the bright lights above him. He was sprawled out on something cool and slick, so when he struggled with his restraints he only slid back and forth.

"That's quite useless." He heard a voice say as he tilted his head up to try and see who had him held captive. The voice seemed familiar. Raspy, yet smooth. Demanding, yet completely calm.

He wanted to say _Well no shit Sherlock_, but he knew it would just come out like a throaty cough. So he just stayed silent trying to pin a face to the voice that he knew so well but his memory was seemed to be failing him. After fighting the cuffs around his wrists once again, which only induced them to cut into his flesh even more, he just closed his eyes. It wasn't like he was going to die. This was probably just some stupid prank that one of his friends was pulling, considering he did this type of shit to them all the time.

When he opened his eyes he jumped up, his brows furrowing quite noticeably as he looked into deep chocolate eyes. He'd recognize them anywhere. The voice and the eyes placed a face in his mind, one that he woke up to every morning and fell asleep next to every night. He struggled in his restraints again, trying to recoil from her presence yet get up in her face all at the same time. Did she even realize that this was her boyfriend of three years?

"Honey," She said leaning back, squirting some sort of medicine out of a syringe. "I'm home."

* * *

Their first date was a movie and she had _loathed_ it. She had worn a very simple lilac dress that came up to the top of her knee and she had compiled her hair up in a braid that served as a headband for the rest of her falling tendrils. Basically she had put a lot of time into dressing up only for him to take her to a dark place, not show her off—which only really proved that his comments about her being a goddess was just a ploy to get in her pants—and basically not get to know her either.

Why, oh why, would you take someone to the movies on a first date? It made no fucking sense when this was supposed to be the start in which you got to know someone.

You were supposed to take them to dinner, or on a nice nightly stroll in the city lights. You were supposed to talk and ask prodding questions that would most likely earn a smart ass remark. Not go see Up In the Air with George Clooney, who contrary to popular opinion couldn't act at all, just so you can cop a feel.

Oh, she did so not work that way. At least not with him.

"You're an idiot." She had leaned over her arm and whispered in his hear.

"What makes you say that?" He proposed, having turned his head so they had been nose to nose. No one could have ever seen them, or heard them for that matter. They were in the back row in the far corner; it was at least ten chairs until you got to the next person.

"We're in a movie theater."

"I believe that's what they're called."

"This is a horrible first date."

"Date? Who said this was a date?"

"Well I'm not a one night stand." She had told him. Her had lips even wandered down to his lips, playing a game because that's what she always did. That had always been her favorite thing to do. Trick people, lie to people. It was a beautiful skill. Some may even call it art.

Instead of replying he had leant in and kissed her, falling prey to her, though he was absolutely oblivious.

"I'm sure it's not too horrible now." He'd said cockily.

"Maybe." She smirked to herself.

This was just too easy.

* * *

There was always a mission.

That's what she had grown up learning, living, and loving. There had always been a code to follow, an order to fulfill. That was just how she was raised and she didn't have a problem with that. She loved what she did; she took pride in that fact that she did it well. Every aspect of her life had been chosen for her, mapped out in a higher authority's mind. She was good at painting the art of deception all around her wherever she was. This career had only been but a perfect match.

Even the statistics said so.

She had taken a deep breath while pulling the gag from his mouth. His skin was a couple shades lighter than its usual pallor. The smirk on her face only twitched a little more as she watched him stare, half in horror and half in curiosity. She trailed her hand down from the gag, her nail pressing against the line of his throat until her fingers stopped over his heartbeat. She could feel the panic pulsing through him and that was why she had found herself chuckling just under her breath. Oh, how long she had waited for this moment. It felt like a millennium since she had been hired, since she had seen his picture in a classified file.

However this wasn't just business because there had been a reason she had taken this file. The thing was she could hand pick her victims but this one was _personal_.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sebastian asked her harshly, though she heard the scratch in his voice.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She remarked, a sadistic look in her eye.

"It looks like you're a fucking psychopath." He yelled at her and she just pressed one finger to her lips. "Seriously, Tana, I know you're into some weird shit but this is a—"

"Callate la boca!" She seethed at him, reaching for his shoulder and pressing him down as she shoved the syringe in her neck. "This will cause paralysis but you'll still feel _everything_." The fire of rage burning within her was at its all time high as she remembered a distant memory from years ago.

It involved flimsy heart, a foolish girl, an undying love.

"What are you doing?" She heard him ask again, his eyes shaking with fear though his face only feigned annoyance.

"Such a stupid, stupid, gringo." She commented, shaking her head.

"Santana!" He yelped as she dug her nails into her palm.

"I was told to make you suffer."

* * *

It had taken months until he had finally gotten her to actually have sex with him. It was about the fifth date and she had told him to come over because she wasn't feeling well and she was too weak to reach the soup in the top back corner of her pantry.

He got there to find her in black lingerie and god, had it been a delight.

Not to mention, better than taking care of her, because let's be real he did not look like a maid. Plus he was not put on this earth to clean up after people. He was one of the people who people were made to clean up after. He was a firm believer that money definitely bought happiness.

"Fuck." He had said, closing the door and dropping his car keys on the side table by the door. It was something he had become accustomed to, seeing as she came to her apartment nearly every day. His roommate was _utterly _annoying as shit, so it wasn't like they could have _alone _time there.

"I'd ask if you'd like it but I don't need too." She remarked, turning around so he had a perfect view of her ass. His eyes trailed down her long, long legs and then back up when she had massaged her hands through her hair, exposing the trail of her spine.

He wanted to explore every inch of her skin with his fingers, his lips, his tongue, and his teeth.

He swiped his tongue over his lips as he finally took a few steps towards her, as she led him down the hall to her bedroom. She had been out of reach until he finally slammed her up against her the wall just by her door and captured her lips with his.

Finally, she was his.

Or so he thought.

* * *

The knife was lodged in his thigh faster than he expected. It was the only thing he felt as well, his senses on overdrive to that one spot in his leg. A scream had etched its way out of his mouth, cutting into the silence and then mixing into a clashing harmony with her chuckles. His eyes closed and his lashed bunched with the top of his cheeks as the knife was dragged down a little more.

There were a million curse words on his lips but he couldn't say any of them. He was paralyzed; his eyes only able to look at the face of a person that he had loved for so many years. Someone that he had been planning to propose to. But right now, there was a deadly look in her eye. It was like he was looking at a stranger. Had he ever really known her at all?

"You're curious aren't you?" She asked, though he knew it was more of a statement. He wanted so badly to roll his eyes but he couldn't. "I can almost hear your voice in my head you know, saying to stop fucking asking rhetorical questions."

Quickly, she took the knife out and she had raised her hands high enough to see the crimson her hands. It was almost a liquid glove she had made for himself out of _his blood_. He's not sure what to expect next until he feels his throat constricting underneath her grip. His heart is beating dangerously fast, trying its best to keep going but he's losing blood and breath all at the same time.

"You fell in love with a figment of your imagination. I was whoever you wanted me to be. I was your fuck buddy, your serious long-term girlfriend, your maid, your nurse. Don't take it too personally a lot of people have been where you are. I'm just an artist, of deception that is, since I'm sure your rich ass brain can't figure it out."

At this point her nails were pricking at the skin just underneath the corner of his jaw. He knew that she could feel his life in her hands and just as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, she let go. Her eyes rolled and she walked over to the table of what he assumed held different instruments of torture.

He didn't even know what to think. This was just some really fucking whack ass dream he wanted to wake up from. He couldn't be dying. He was the richest man in New York right now. He was one of the top sexiest men alive. He was _Sebastian Smythe, Billionaire. _He couldn't die.

Why wasn't immortality real?

His strength was slowly burning out and he closed his eyes again. It was only to have a knife cut into his shoulder, carving a random pattern.

"I was hired," She licked her lips as she took a deep breath. Her eyes only portrayed fury and repugnance. It was then he noticed that her lips were only half upturned into a smirk. The rest was in some sort of half frown. "Three years ago, I saw your picture in a file and I knew exactly who you were." She pulled the knife out, and slid it in a ghostly manner over her fingers. He watched as a drop of the sticky ichor slid down her finger. Fingers that had touched him every place imaginable, that had made him feel things that were indescribable.

How had he gotten himself in this position?

"You know not many people know how Sebastian Smythe really got his start in the business world do they? Let's take a walk down memory lane, shall we?" He could hear her heels clicking against the floor as she walked tantalizingly slow around him. Her long nail, dragging across his jaw. Leaning in close, her tongue barely edged his ear. "You were quite into stealing things. Money, jewelry, anything to buy you that first crisp suit you wore when you met my parents for luck. You robbed a jewelry parlor and it just so happened that love of my life had been there. And what…may I ask did you do?" She stopped and she lifted her lips from his ear.

Then she violently scratched her fingernail down his cheek, drawing blood. His body hummed with misery and he just wished she would stop. He wished that she would go back to being the woman he had fell in love with. The woman he had wanted to marry.

"You shot her in the head, killing her _instantly_."

* * *

Finding the ring between blankets in their closet was the equivalent of running through the finish line, first place, in some sort of race. It had taken three years for this time to come. Three years of pure patience, stealth, and feigning love until she could finally do what she had originally set out to do.

She remembered the security tape of the jewelry shop the day Rachel died vividly. She still had the gray matching hoodie to the one the brunette had been wearing. She remembered every curve of her legs in those dark denim skinny jeans, and the way her hair had been pulled back in a professional ponytail. She had been picking up an engagement ring, diamond cut, with two smaller diamonds on the side. She had held it in her hand so delicately, that small smile on worn on her beautiful face. Everything had been going perfect.

Then she remembered the three gunshots fired into the roof and a hooded robber stalked in. He had worn a white plastic mask that shielded his face; he shot his guns twice more. Once through the employees face and then he turned to Rachel. He hadn't even hesitated. She remembered that part the most and then afterwards when he looked up into the camera, his lips turning into a smirk, his eyes sparkling.

She had never forgotten those eyes.

Years later, she had been mailed a package. Her new assignment from headquarters.

And it was as if justice was finally being served and she was the one who got to play God.

* * *

"You didn't even show remorse. Not for her, not for the employee, and not for any other victim who you deemed in your way. Unfortunately for you, you've screwed over too many people. Some people who may not have as much money as you but enough to hire someone like me." She told him and her voice was vicious. There were angry tears running from her eyes, as she took his hands into her neck again. This time she dug her nails deep into his flesh and she could feel his throat constrict. His eyes just barely widened and she could feel the life draining from him.

"You deserve to suffer like all those families did. You deserve to suffer what I felt, goddammit!" She took a deep breath and a few of tears fell onto his lips. "You deserve to lose the person you love and die all at the same time." She wanted to tell him that she hated him, that she had always hated him but the words couldn't make it out of her throat. Instead it traveled through her veins as she held his life in his hand.

Her grip on his neck tightened and slowly but surely, she held his eyes until they appeared hollow. His body slacked just a little bit, his fingers falling from the gripped position they had been in this whole time.

She let go of him after a moment, and fell to the ground. A breath of relief fell from her lips and the feeling washed over her body. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, sitting still for a moment. Once she had regained her composure she cleaned up the mess she had made. She rolled his body up, along with all the blood into the plastic tarps she had covering the floor. She left it in the middle of the vacant building knowing her employers would dispose of it once she called in. Grabbing her fedora she put it on her head but titled it down so her face was hidden in a shadow.

_Mission Complete_.

* * *

**A/N**: So the fourth prompt for this was killer/victim which was stated at the beginning. I did graphics and gifs for the past couple days, so I decided to fic something today. However I may go back and fic something for the other days on a later date. I hope that you enjoyed this though and I would appreciate very, very much if you'd leave a review!


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